“So, it’s true, huh?” he questions, topping off the glasses. He pushes one towards me and the smell alone makes me want to vomit. “You trading up?”
“Nah,” I say, pushing the shot away. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, what would you say then because the other rumor flying around is that you moved here for Lydia and if that’s the case, you’re fucking crazy. That girl is a fucking pain in the ass.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, refraining from telling this asshole to fuck off. He’s a glorified taxi driver and babysitter and he wants to judge me. He can’t even show up for his shifts here. It’s no wonder why he grates on Lydia’s nerves.
“I like the pizza,” I tell him. “And maybe Lydia wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass if you showed up for work. What’s with that?”
He scoffs, taking the shot he poured for me. I watch as he knocks it back, shaking his head as the burn of alcohol heats his throat. After a moment, he sets his beady eyes on me.
“Awfully defensive over a girl you didn’t move across the country to chase. Man take it from one pathetic fool to another, you’re wasting your time. I don’t care if her pussy is made of gold, it ain’t worth the havoc she’s gonna cause to your fucking heart.”
“Thanks for the advice but it isn’t needed.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, reaching for the whiskey bottle. “Right, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you and while we’re chitchatting, stay the fuck out of my business, Texas. We’re two soldiers gunning for the same position. You stay on your side of the fucking fence and I’ll stay on mine.”
“So, I should cancel the friendship bracelets I ordered then,” I retort.
Pushing back from the bar, I straighten my shoulders and narrow my eyes at him.
“You didn’t pay much attention to your pops growing up, did you? Those men in there,” I say, pausing to point towards the hallway. “…they were all prospects at one time. There was no line drawn in the sand between them. They respected one another and their love for the patch. Those men are brothers and I don’t know about you, but that’s what I’m gunning for. Brotherhood. Family. A place in this cold world. I ain’t looking to take your place or trample on you to get to the finish line. I guess you missed that lesson in biker 101.”
Nico doesn’t have a chance to respond because the door opens and Riggs rushes in—minus the tricycle. Bummer. Come to think of it, the guy looks off and not just because he doesn’t have his signature shades on. His gaze slices to me and that’s when I see the venom reflected in his eyes.
“Where are they?” he grinds out.
“Chapel,” Nico supplies.
“All hands on deck,” Riggs says, his jaw clenching with every word he utters. I’ve never seen him like this before. Even when all that shit was going on with the cartel and Parrish, Riggs always remained cool, calm and collected. The guy standing in front of me looks like he’s about to go on a murderous rampage.
“That’s really not your call to make,” Nico points out.
Stupid fucker.
“Whatcha gonna do about it?” Riggs sneers. Nico remains silent as Riggs moves to the bar. Bracing one hand on the wood, he leans over and fists Nico’s shirt, pulling him flush against the bar. “Don’t fuck with me, Nico. The last time I got like this I turned a bunch of Chinese fuckers into Lo-Mein. Move. Now.” Releasing Nico’s shirt, he turns to me. “You too, Moses.”
Nico mutters a curse as we follow Riggs down the hallway. He doesn’t bother to knock before he charges into the chapel like a mad man. Pipe is the first to jolt out of his seat, cocking his gun and aiming it at us.
“What the fuck is this?” Wolf growls.
“He made us come,” Nico says, pointing a finger at Riggs.
“I’d shut the fuck up if I were you,” I hiss, eyeing Pipe who still has his gun aimed at us.
“Someone better start talking,” Pipe grunts.
Riggs charges for the table, dropping an envelope on top of it.
“I found this in my mailbox,” he reveals.
“Hey, Uncle Pipe, you going to put that away anytime soon?” Nico questions as Stryker takes the envelope and passes it down to Wolf.
“Nah,” Pipe replies, keeping the gun high. He turns to Wolf as the envelope reaches him and the room goes quiet while he opens it. “Well, what the fuck is it?”
“I’ll tell you what it is,” Riggs interjects. “It’s a fucking threat against my Kitten.”
“Kitten is Lauren,” Nico supplies behind me. “The non-wife but the love of his life.”
“I know who Kitten is,” I hiss.
“You two shut the fuck up,” Pipe orders, waving the gun around in the air. He wasn’t this scary last night when we were fucking arm wrestling.
“All it says is ‘I’m coming for her’,” Wolf rationalizes, neatly folding the piece of paper before lifting his light eyes to Riggs.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is that not enough? Should we wait until there is a fucking horse’s head in my bed?”
Pipe finally lowers the gun and takes the paper from Wolf, inspecting it.
“Calm down,” Wolf orders. “You’re getting all bent out of shape over a piece of paper with magazine clippings glued to it.”
“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” Riggs shouts, roughly running his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I should tell Maria her daughter is in danger. Maybe then you’ll give a fuck.”
“Was the letter addressed to Lauren?” Wolf rebuts. “Did it have her fucking name on it? Was it postmarked to her?”
“No.”
“So, you’re not even a hundred percent certain this letter is for her.”
“Well, who the fuck else could it be for? I’ve got three boys and a fucking goldfish. Pardon me for thinking her would imply the only fucking female in the house.”
“Don’t misconstrue what I’m saying,” Wolf argues. “I’m just trying not to jump the gun here.”
“Jump the gun?” Riggs fires back. “Do I gotta remind you what happened with Sun Wu?” He points to the patch on his vest that reads In Memory of Bones. “I lost my best friend because some prick tried to kill my girl…if Bones didn’t jump in front of those bullets, Lauren and Eric would be in a fucking box and my other two boys wouldn’t exist.”
“And you seem to forget we lost a brother too, Riggs,” Wolf replies.
“He was your brother because he did the Devil’s work, but he was mine in every fucking sense of the word!”
“Whoa,” Deuce interrupts. “Why don’t we all take a breath.”
“Shut up,” Wolf and Riggs growl in unison.
“I stood in a morgue, held his bloody kutte in my hands and stared at his body riddled with bullets and I promised—I fucking swore on everything, I’d make it count. That his sacrifice would not be in vain.”
“Riggs—”
“No, Wolf, you listen to me and you listen to me good, Javier’s hit squad broke into Blackie’s house while Lacey and Danny were sleeping and painted the walls with fucking blood. They got a correctional officer to pull Blackie out of his cell so members of the cartel could nearly beat him to death. If you’re not taking this fucking threat seriously, you don’t belong in that fucking chair.”
Whoa. This was all news to me, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t just question what the fuck I got myself in to.
“I thought Blackie was in rehab,” I say, cringing as soon as the words leave my lips. I shouldn’t even be in this room much less asking anyone anything.
“Oh, he’s in rehab,” Nico mutters. “But he didn’t overdose on drugs he scored in prison because he’s a junkie. The guy overdosed on the drugs the cartel put in his hand after they showed him a video of Lacey sleeping in her bed.” That last part had him clenching his jaw.
“But that’s just a letter and I shouldn’t be concerned,” Riggs sneers. “Maybe the fucking paperboy has a hard on for my girl and dropped it in the mailbox while delivering his route.”
“Did Lauren see
the letter?” Cobra asks.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course not.”
“You’re the mad fucking scientist here,” Pipe shouts, dropping the envelope back on the table. “Did you check it for prints?”
“Scientist is a stretch,” Deuce says. “He’s more like the geek squad.”
Riggs flips him the bird before turning his attention back to the vice president. “It’s clean and before you ask, I rewound the security cameras and got nothing. It’s like the thing appeared out of thin air.”
“So we got nothing,” Pipe grunts. “No prints, no footage…I don’t suppose the cunt licked the envelope either.”
“Definitely no trace of DNA if that’s what your fishing at,” Riggs confirms.
They continue to go back and forth, exhausting every possible outcome and I can’t help but wonder if they’re missing the mark on something. I mean, the Sinaloa cartel is a big deal. They’re a global criminal enterprise and painting blood on the walls of a Knight’s house while his wife sleeps is definitely their style. Shooting someone between the eyes and cutting their heart from their chest is another calling card. But clipping letters from a magazine and gluing them to a piece of paper, not so much.
“Does Bianci know?” Bas questions.
“Not yet.”
“Keep it that way,” Wolf orders, drawing every pair of eyes in the room back to him. “I know you think I’m incapable of leading this charter,” he says, keeping his gaze steady on Riggs. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m what you got and so long as I’m sitting in this fucking chair, we do things my way. Don’t like it? Take a vote and push me the fuck out.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Riggs hisses. “I think you’re very capable, but we’re all used to the Parrish way. One look at that letter and he would’ve hijacked an ambulance, drove it through the window of whatever crack house these motherfuckers were dwelling in and shot them all from here to kingdom come.”
Wolf’s lips tick, a nostalgic smile twisting at the corners.
“And if he was still in charge, I’d be the one cleaning the blood from his hands after having reloaded the clip a dozen times,” he retorts, pausing to glance around the table. “Parrish did his time and now his place is with his family. As his brothers, it’s our duty to see that they remain safe. That’s why Nico is on Parrish duty.”
A groan sounds from behind me and I glance over my shoulder at Nico.
“Yeah, about that…”
“Not now,” Wolf scolds, turning his attention back to Riggs.
“And as your brothers, it is also our duty to keep you and yours safe, but Lauren ain’t just your Kitten anymore and you’d be wise to remember that she’s also Maria’s daughter. She’s part of my family too, Riggs, and I’ll stand in front of a thousand loaded guns before I let one fucking bullet graze your front lawn, much less my woman’s daughter.”
He grips the edge of the table and pushes himself up and out of the chair. Slowly he meets the gaze of every man with a reaper on his back, silently communicating, assuring them he’s the steadfast leader they need. Then those stealth eyes fixate on me.
“Bash,” he calls.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, squaring my shoulders back as I take a step forward.
There is no second guessing my actions even though part of me is fully aware I’m being summoned by the devil incarnate.
Thirsty.
So fucking thirsty.
“Remember when I told you I need more than just your attention?”
“Yes,” I say and that’s what I give him.
Every ounce of attention, all my focus.
“Then you remember what I said after that,” he prods.
I nod, recalling the words.
I need your blood, sweat, and tears.
“Are you ready to give me all that?” he questions.
I hold his gaze for a minute before turning my head slightly and looking directly into Rigg’s eyes. Gone is the rage. All that’s left is fear. Fear for the woman he almost lost. For the child he almost buried and the two he might never have held.
“Moses,” Riggs rasps.
My eyes leave his and I look back at Wolf.
“I’m ready.”
Silence engulfs the room.
The seconds go round on the clock.
One minute.
Two.
Finally, he nods.
“Bash is on Kitten duty,” he announces to the club before focusing solely on me. “You’re her fucking shadow. Wherever she goes, you go. You’re only relieved of your duties if Riggs is home but if he feels things aren’t safe, you sit on that fucking lawn with a goddamn bazooka if you have to.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s going to ask questions,” he says to Riggs. “Play it off like you’ve taken Bash under your wing. Hell, pretend you’re showing him how to dismantle a computer. I don’t give a fuck. Spin it however you want, just so long as she isn’t scared.” He pauses to sweep his eyes around the table once more. “I want the rest of you digging into what’s left of Javier’s hit squad. I want a list of names, every fucking address listed. I want to know every fucking move they make. If one of those cunts so much as takes a piss in public, you report back to me. If these fucks are behind this, they’re going to be put down and if they’re not, I’ll take the ticket to Hell anyway.”
He reaches for the mallet and shuffles it from his left hand to his right before slamming it against the grain of the wood. Lifting his head, his eyes lock with mine.
His message clear.
I bleed red and black now.
And my blood’s been summoned.
-Ten-
Lydia
Are you working?
That’s how the text I received from Bash an hour ago read. Of course I didn’t answer and naturally, I’ve been obsessing over those three words since. If I’m not stealing glances at my phone to see if he sent another text, I’m staring at the door foolishly hoping he’ll walk through it. It’s been a couple of days since we went to Stewart’s and I haven’t been able to get the guy off my mind. Part of me is still reeling from the fact I so easily opened up and shared pieces of my gram with him. I haven’t really spoken of her since she passed two years ago. Not even to Chaz. I didn’t realize how sharing that loss with another person could be so therapeutic. The memories that were starting to become fuzzy were suddenly preserved in vibrant hues. That beautiful smile that lit my world shined brightly when she visited me in my dreams and this morning, on my way to work, I saw the most gorgeous red cardinal flying alongside my car.
After gram died, I discovered the significance of the red cardinal, that they were a sign from heaven, letting you know your loved one was still close to your heart. I needed to see that bird then, and I needed to see it this morning. It wasn’t as comforting as having gram’s arms wrapped around me, but it soothed the heartache losing her left behind and I immediately thought of Bash. I wondered if he knew the story behind the cardinal and if he had seen one since his mom’s passing.
That’s mainly why I haven’t allowed myself to answer his message. A dose of human interaction with a man you’re attracted to will undoubtedly make you soft. You will forget there are massive concrete walls stacked high around you and that you can’t afford to get close to anyone because you are risking not only your life but possibly his as well. You’ll eat a fucking cheeseburger when you’ve been trained to count and consume only vegetables.
“Lydia,” Riggs calls, pulling me away from my thoughts. I turn to my boss as he rounds the bar and helps himself to a beer. There is something off with him. I noticed it this morning when I found him sitting alone at one of the tables studying photos of a guy I never met. When the rest of the club showed up, Riggs packed the photos away in a shoebox and safely tucked it under the bar. They headed to the chapel and I began to set the tables for the lunch rush. That’s when I found one of the photographs on the floor. The guy in the picture with Riggs wore a similar vest
and the name patch he sported read Bones. I had heard the name before and saw the patch memorialized on Rigg’s kutte, but I didn’t know the whole story.
“Yeah?”
“Kitten is coming with the kids,” he says, pulling the beer away from his lips as he stares at the couple seated in the corner, sharing a plate of wings. “I want the bar closed while they’re here.”
I stop myself from asking if everything is okay because, hey, not getting close to anyone. Chaz, being the exception.
“Their burgers aren’t ready yet, I just served them their appetizer,” I say instead, watching as he lifts the beer back to his lips and takes a long pull. With his jaw clenched, he turns his gaze back to me.
“Get rid of them,” he orders.
Yeah, something is definitely not right. I’ve never seen this side of Riggs and as he sets the empty bottle on top of the bar, I decide I’m more a fan of his quick wit and outrageous behavior. “Tell them there is a fire in the kitchen for all I care, just make them go away.”
As if on cue, the door opens and the boisterous voices of his two oldest boys fill the bar. I watch intently as Riggs swallows hard and plasters his signature grin to his face.
“There’s my cubs,” he says. “Oh, and my delectable little kitty too.” Those tormented eyes go soft as he locks them on the beautiful brunette chasing after the two hellraisers.
“Eric! Robert! Watch the…shit.”
I flinch as the two boys crash into the table the couple is occupying, knocking everything over. There’s no need to worry over how we’re going to get them to leave because they jump from their seats, both decorated in hot wing sauce and beer. Mission accomplished. Thank you, little cubs, thank you very much.
I grab a towel and start for the couple, prepared to apologize when the front door swings open again. The sight of Bash strolling in with an infant carrier in one hand roots me in place. There’s something to be said about a man in leather holding a baby even if he looks uncomfortable as fuck and appears as though he’s holding a live bomb. I don’t know how long I stand there like an idiot, staring at the man but I don’t snap out of my trance until the couple storms out of the bar, slamming the door behind them.
Shifting Gears (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 1) Page 8